Date: Tue, 7 Feb 2012 22:21:19 -0700
From: Pete McDonald
Subject: TIME-TO-SEE-35-
TIME-TO-SEE-35
"Dr. Kavanaugh, could you come into Hugo's room? I think he needs you."
And with that brief message, Kevin flipped his cell phone shut, and I began
a new life.
If it had been up to me, Dr. Kavanaugh would have gotten his telephone call
about noon. As it was, it was two-forty-five A.M. and only minutes since
Kevin got up and found me sitting in the floor with the boys.
In less than a flash Dr. Kavanaugh came bursting into the room with two lab
people in his wake. He saw me crying, sitting on the floor with Jilder and
Nicky.
Of course he didn't understand what was going on; so Dr. Kavanaugh sat down
on the floor next to me and the boys, and after he was in place, he
realized that we were gathered around the PSP, with its little 4inch screen
glowing pale green, and the very faint sounds of Christmas music
overflowing from its tiny speakers, if you listened carefully. I was
hypnotized by the experience... I guessed I was hearing, and it was
wonderful.
There were no words, only very beautiful noise. Dr. Kavanaugh put his hand
on my shoulder and brought me out of my trance. He was looking right at me
and smiling when I turned and saw him.
"Well, my boy, I see that you have discovered the world of sound."
I didn't speak a word. I didn't have anything to say, and I didn't
understand what he had said anyhow. My eyes filled with tears again, and I
leaned over on the doctor's shoulder and cried more tears of happiness.
He patted me on the back and spoke gently, "We KNEW that we could help you
to hear."
The only problem was: "I didn't understand a thing he said! Nothing! I
heard a string of different but meaningless sounds coming from his
mouth..."
"Oh, God! what's wrong," I thought to myself. I jumped up and ran to the
bed where I found my pad and a pen. I quickly settled back down on the
floor next to Dr. Kavanaugh and wrote for him to read... "I can hear
noise, but I don't know what you said! What's wrong?"
Dr. Kavanaugh smiled again and wrote, "NOTHING is wrong, Hugo. You've just
got to learn to understand spoken words. You don't yet recognize the
meanings of the sounds of the language; so we'll have to get you a speech
teacher to go along with our own teaching. You'll learn very quickly, I'm
sure."
And then he took the pad and the pen and he pointed to each word and spoke
the sound of that word as he read it to me.
However, the very first word he pointed to was "Hugo". And he spoke the
word for me, "HU-GO." I repeated his sound and smiled after I did it.
I realized that this was going to be lots of fun, but a really big job.
I'm learning to read, just like a school boy... (That made me feel very
happy, and I smiled and pointed to myself and looked at Kevin and said
"Hugo!" out loud to him for the very first time.
Kevin laughed and wrote on my pad, "I love you, Hugo!" Then he sounded
each word for me out loud.
I took the pen and wrote, "I love you, Kevin." And then I made the sounds
"I... love... you... Kah???"
I didn't know how to SAY "Kevin!" That made me laugh, and Kevin pointed to
his name and spoke "KEV-IN". He said it again, "KEV-IN".
I repeated his name after him both times he spoke. Then I said on my own,
"I... love... you,... Kevin." My very first SENTENCE on my own was for
Kevin. I was so proud! I was talking like normal people.
Surprisingly, Jilder and Nicky were sitting quietly on the sofa watching
while I was learning my first words. Moments later, I realized that they
were in awe of what was going on with me right in front of them.
When it occurred to me that they were overwhelmed, I dropped my
conversation with Dr. Kavanaugh and Kevin and went over to the sofa and sat
down between them putting my arms around both of them. I pulled their
heads over to me and kissed them both two or three times on the ears and
neck and head. They sputtered and squirmed and giggled when the kisses
tickled and the attention became too much to bear. But my bulk and
strength was more than they could obstruct.
I took my arms from behind both of them and began writing on a pad that I'd
brought with me. I wrote two words:
"Jilder"..... "Nicky"
I pointed to the words and then to my mouth. I made gestures like I didn't
know what to do.
"Oh!" Nicky picked up on my gestures and he pointed to the word "Jilder"
and he said "JIL-DER". Then he looked to me to copy the sounds that he had
made, and paused for me to respond.
I repeated "JI...DER..." and smiled. I thought it was a pretty good
imitation. But Nicky pointed to the letter "L" and made a sound that I
didn't recognize in what he said before: "ulll ..." "ulll..."
Later I realized that he was telling me that the letter "L" had a sound
that I wasn't expressing clearly. And with that, I realized that this
talking business wasn't going to be a piece of cake necessarily. But I did
learn to say the word, "Jilder" to his satisfaction. (This kid was going
to be one hard-ass teacher, I could see... )
Then he pointed to himself and to the written word "Nicky." He waited
until my eyes were trained on his mouth, and he made the noises "NI-KEE",
and he waited for me to copy his sounds. I did better on this one, because
he pointed out to me that the "C" gave the first sound of his name a
"little kick."
It went, "NIC-KEE"
Then I looked at Jilder and said, "I...love....Jilder," and kissed him on
the forehead.
I looked Nicky in the eye and said, "I... love... Nicky" and followed that
with a kiss on his forehead.
*****
The doctor and lab people were giving signs that they would like to speak
with me further; so I wrote a message for the boys. "I gotta go talk to
the doctors again. Later. Will you please teach me how to talk some
more?... You know so much that I need to learn."
When they read that message, a sense of purpose came over them that was
visible, something that I don't think either one had anticipated acquiring.
Each one of them would be my teacher--real, essential, irreplaceable-- just
as Kevin and I were their teachers. Life is a wonderful interplay of need
and fullfilment, in which all of us interact as both essential elements of
the grand design.
"Hugo," Dr. Kavanaugh called. Then he wrote down information that he wanted
me to understand. He waited for me to read it and indicate that I
understood.
His written message was rather long:
"Dr. O'Ryan and his team will be visiting you every two hours to inject the
nerve growth stimulant. It is clear that the rudimentary connections have
been made to your brain, but we want to continue to encourage growth for
another two weeks by supplying the signals to grow via injection. We don't
anticipate any extraordinary discomfort."
"At ten a.m. today, I would like you to begin a series of audiometric tests
to determine your sensitivity to a range of frequencies (20 to 20,000cps)
and your thresholds."
(I had no idea what that meant, but I'd be there.)
"Again, we will all be taking extra precautions to avoid exposing you to
any pathogens that could infect your developing hearing structures... We
will continue to insist that anyone who visits you in this room must come
in sterile dress and face masks.....and they will engage in highly
restricted noise generation of any type."
"We will secure a speech therapist and language teacher and begin
instruction in the sounds of the English language immediately. I'm
thinking tomorrow: that is, around two p.m. I'm expecting that you will be
able to participate in three to four hours of instruction each day. If
this schedule turns out to be too ambitious, then we will adjust it
accordingly."
"You will probably continue to experience the need for extra sleep, above
that you were accustomed to needing before these procedures. Your body
will be providing energy to specific healing activities for some
indeterminate period.... So, if I may, I plan to visit with you at least
daily over the next two weeks and encourage you to use my cell phone to
reach me anytime that you need."
I understood what the doctor was doing. He was organizing to get on with
the business of my becoming a completely hearing person, fluent in spoken,
oral, and written use of the language. And he was starting NOW! (This is a
man of my own spirit...)
Then he wrote further on the pad, "I realize that you will not understand
me when I speak to you until you learn a bit more of the language, but I am
going to speak to you now anyhow. If there are details that I must be sure
that you grasp, I'll write them down, and we'll read them together. Okay
with you?"
I answered in writing, "Oh, Yes, Dr. Kavanaugh. I'll cooperate in every way
I can to make sure I carry out your instructions."
I was still writing mostly, "Thank you so much for persisting in your
efforts to get me to participate in your research project. I know I was
very slow to respond. I was scared of failing, Dr. Kavanaugh... You have
made life more wonderful than I ever dreamed would be possible. Thank You,
Doctor. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You."
Dr. Kavanaugh smiled and gave me a big hug and said in sound- although I
didn't understand everything at the time:
"I'm not going to leave you alone, Hugo. You have become MY SON. And I
want you to enjoy your hearing to the maximum possible. I love Hugo."
He knew that I'd understood those last three words.
*****
The days passed so quickly as Christmas drew near. The boys and Kevin went
to school in the morning at home, and I went to school in the morning at
the hospital. Every afternoon Kevin would bring the boys to see me at the
hospital. School for me in the morning was work! Yes. A lot of it I
really wanted to learn, and I was always overflowing with extra questions
that sometimes frustrated the instructor, because she kept saying, "We'll
get to that... We'll get to that... That's coming up next... We have to do
this first; so you'll be ready to understand what you're asking me..."
In a funny sort of way, I was pushing the teacher, but it oozed out of
me... I just had to ask about this and that, things I had never experienced
before were suddenly in my life... I wanted to know what they were
about... It was so marvelous. I wanted to know everything at once!
Jilder let me borrow his PSP that he showed me how to set to play Christmas
music. And Kevin brought me little memory sticks (he called them); one was
filled with music by Tchaikovsky called the Nutcracker Suite. It was a
Christmas story.
Kevin went to the bookstore and bought me a big colorful reading book that
told the story of the Nutcracker in pictures and words. I enjoyed it so
much that I took my sketchpad and made more pictures of the Nutcracker and
the other toys as they danced and prepared for Christmas... It was the most
wonderful story.
My teacher helped me to read the story out loud, which, when I had the
pronunciation down perfectly, I proudly read to Jilder and Nicky, and they
clapped for me when I'd finished! Learning was just a joy for me.
And on the other memory sticks were beautiful sounds of the most
complicated sort. I was amazed at them. Kevin brought me pictures of a
symphony orchestra that he said was made of one hundred people playing
their instruments all at the same time to make that beautiful sound...
Yes, Kevin called all of these sounds "MUSIC," and he spoke and wrote the
word "music"; then he wrote the word "language," for me. What a wonderful
world there is for me to explore, one I had no idea existed before I could
hear. What a wonderful Christmas gift for me... the sounds were
unspeakably beautiful, and I asked Kevin to bring me water colors that I
painted onto the sketches I made of the Nutcracker: red, purple, and bright
green, yellow, and turquoise, and blue... and then I hung them all around
the walls of my room. I spent hours listening to music and sketching about
Christmas.
*****
Kevin could see how much I enjoyed music; so he suggested that I should
consider learning how to make music. For that he brought a visitor one
afternoon, just the week before Christmas.
"Hugo," Kevin spoke to me. "This is Guillermo."
I smiled and said, "This is Guillermo. Hello, Guillermo." I always
repeated what people said to me. I was trying to develop my pronunciation
and inflection, as well as learn new vocabulary and connect the vocabulary
I had on paper to a spoken vocabulary. I'm sure I sounded silly and
artificial, but I had work to do. I wasn't all that worried about what
other people thought of the process I was going through.
Kevin continued to speak to me, "Hugo, Guillermo is a music teacher. He
will give you instruction on how to play the guitar. We can get you a
guitar for your own, if you decide that you want to learn to play one."
Kevin continued speaking, "Don't let me push something else on you, Hugo
(I'm well-known for that.), but I know how much you love to listen to
music, and how artistic you are with your drawing and sketching, I thought
that you'd like to see what making music is all about."
I didn't understand every word of what Kevin said, but I got the idea
pretty easily. Guillermo brought his guitar, which he removed from its
big, black case. He sat on the arm of one of the chairs as I sat on the
floor, and he began to strum the guitar making lovely musical sounds.
After turning some little knobs on one end of the guitar, he began to sing
and play quietly, the very song that I heard my first night of hearing
sound from Jilder's PSP. He played and sang Silent Night for me.
It was so beautiful that my eyes began to collect tears, but I tried to
contain my emotions that seemed to be bubbling over every other moment.
"Here, Hugo. You take the guitar," Guillermo said as he passed his guitar
to me. He walked around behind me, kneeled down and reached around,
helping me to hold the guitar correctly.
"Now, use the thumb of your right hand and brush across the strings
gently...." he told me. He put his hand over mine and moved my hand and
thumb over the strings.
The guitar made a deep, resonant musical sound each time I rubbed its
strings with my thumb. I strummed the strings two or three times. I felt
as if I were performing magic.
"Look," Guillermo said as he reached over my shoulder and placed the
fingers of his left hand across several of the frets and strummed the
strings again with his right. This time the music that came from the
guitar was different. He showed me how to move from one position to
another, brushing the strings after each move. The result was my
beautiful, Silent Night. And then Guillermo started singing words as I
played the three musical chords that he'd demonstrated.
He put a card in front of me containing the words he would sing, and he
pointed to each word as he sang it. Somehow, I just knew what chords to
play, when to play them, and for how long, because I remembered them from
the song that I'd listened to on Jilder's PSP. Guillermo sang the whole
song for me.
As soon as we had done it once, I tried to sing it with him. The two of us
sang Silent Night while I strummed on Guillermo's guitar. I was in heaven
in the midst of such beauty. We sang it twice, and I wasn't ready to stop
even after that.
However, I did realize that Guillermo was only visiting me to allow me to
decide whether I thought I wanted to learn to play the guitar; so he didn't
try to teach me technical names or such, but I knew I was hooked. I wanted
to learn to play the guitar more than anything, except learning to speak
without an accent. Singing would help me to learn how to pronounce words
correctly and would give me lots of repetitive practice.
Kevin sat in the big chair listening to Guillermo and me play and sing.
After we had been at it for almost an hour I said, "Thank you, Guillermo,
for teaching me to sing Silent Night. I want to learn to play more
sometime in the future. May I call you?"
"Oh, sure," Guillermo answered. "I'd love to teach you how to play."
And another wonderful possibility materialized for me that afternoon right
in my room: I could learn to play the guitar and sing.
*****
The boys were dressed in their usual "Martian Outfits," and they were now
behaving as if this were their house too. No matter that we had visitors
every two hours who gave me the nerve growth stimulator shots; Jilder and
Nicky moved in and took over the one big table for their school work. I
had to move my books and papers to the nightstand; so we all had a place
for our work.
Nobody was to be left out, and everyone had a place in the world that was
their place where their things belonged and where they belonged and were
loved, and where the people who loved them belonged. I really could hardly
believe how wonderful life had become in only a year since I met Kevin.
*****
Christmas was just a week away, and Kevin and I hadn't had any time to sit
and talk about what we could get the boys for Christmas. That conversation
was long overdue.
Nothing to go with the dogs just yet... The dogs were hardly seeing much at
all of the boys, they're spending so much of their free time hanging out at
the hospital. But when we all went home, that would all change, I was
sure.
I didn't stress over how we would integrate our whole family once I
finished this transplant process, which--by the way--seemed to be getting
longer as we went through it. I mean, I hadn't expected the speech therapy
that they slipped in on me: Well, obviously I had to go to school to learn
to speak, I do understand that, but also, I wondered just when these people
were going to be finished with me.
(The short answer to that question was never! Just wait until you find out
what happened!)
Oh, well, in the meantime, I decided I'd just enjoy the attention and throw
myself into the program, whatever it turned out to be.
But, Christmas was coming, what would the boys benefit from?
Kevin said they were doing so well with their studies that it would really
be useful if each of them had his own laptop computer, which would permit
each boy to go to the new textbook websites.
We wouldn't actually buy some of the text material. We'd just let them go
to the textbook pages that they were studying. Kevin could continue to
print out some things, but the explanations and demonstrations could best
be observed directly from the webpage. It turned out that there was an
on-line use charge for selected textbooks.
Yes, a laptop for each of them certainly sounded practical, but immediately
I began to worry about them going to adult places that I'd rather they not
explore before they were even teenagers. It seemed I'd become the
"Mother-Superior-Worrier" in this family. I always worried that the boys
would encounter influences that would lead them astray-- pain pills, porn
sites, or Facebook predators-- that I couldn't protect them from. I was a
wreck only a few minutes after Kevin suggested laptops for the boys'
Christmas gifts...
Kevin explained that we could have our wifi system block the porn sites,
but even I realized that that would only be a temporary fix, in that the
boys would quickly discover ways around the blocks when their hormones
started raging. Oh, my, I didn't bargain for all THESE things when I
thought about raising the boys...
(I fear that I'd never have gotten into the business if I'd thought about
it-- which would have been a HUGE mistake for all of us! Enough of the
worry!) Okay. Laptops for both of them! (Rascals!)
But should we get them anything just for being them? I mean, it would
certainly be a good investment in their education to give them laptops, but
what might be something that they could LIKE, just as boys?
Humm?
Surprises?
Humm?
I knew! (And I whispered in Kevin's ear...)
"Terrific!" Kevin said with a big grin
*****
On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, I thought Kevin would never stop
bringing in packages.
First there was the little, fresh green Christmas tree that smelled
wonderful. He carried a bag of tree trimmings that he sat down beside the
tree.
He brought in packages covered in bright colored Christmas wrapping paper.
I stopped counting after I reached twenty, but the packages and bundles
kept coming after that, on and on.
Kevin put out a huge tray of Christmas cookies and goodies, (some were even
healthy that I would eat) and two containers of Christmas drinks: one had
eggnog in it, and one was cinnamon-laced apple cider. He brought hot coffee
in little boxes from Starbucks too. He had Christmas plates and Christmas
napkins and Christmas cups and Christmas candles and a Christmas wreath.
"My God," I said. "Kevin. You'd better stop with the Christmas stuff.
People are going to think there are a couple of gay guys in here!"
"Fuck you," Kevin said as he posted a kiss on the tip of my nose while
holding a sprig of mistletoe over my head... (I had to explain mistletoe to
the boys.)
I learned to say "FUCK", quite early in my speech instruction. The boys
thought that was supremely funny, but I knew it was part of the enlightened
man's essential vocabulary-- so what if it were not quite "polite."
When the boys came in carrying the last load of Christmas paraphernalia,
they both plopped down on the sofa exhaling with exaggerated sounds of
winded exhaustion! What pretend pansies there!
Then Kevin said, "Okay, guys. Now we're all going to trim the Christmas
tree."
"Yeaaaaa! Yeaaaaa!" the boys exclaimed, much too loud for my environment,
but the dampening materials with which the room was fitted took the edge
off of their indiscretions.
"GUYS!" I retorted, being just a little too loud myself. "Don't let
Dr. Kavanaugh hear you. He'll have a cow or throw you out!"
"Oh! Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll be careful" Nicky said as true
distress furrowed his brow.
"Oh, yeah! OK, Hugo. I'm sorry too, I forgot," Jilder added, accepting the
chastising as his own too.
Jilder picked up his PSP from my bedside table and asked, "Can I play
Christmas music?"
"Yes, but leave it set to very low... I'll tell you if it's too loud," I
said using my spoken words!" (It was so wonderful to be talking to my boys
with speech, the way other dad's do.)
And thus the evening began.
First the tree was draped with multicolored twinkling lights, and then
small shiny silver and gold and pink and blue balls were hung from every
available bough. The boys stood back admiring their work as they went
along, "Hugo, what do you think?" Nicky asked me.
"It's just perfect Nick. Now, are you going to hang the icicles?" I asked
him.
"Oh, yeah! Jilder, where did you put those icicles? They're in those long
skinny boxes," he said.
"Here. They're here," Jilder replied.
"Good, now open em and give me some," Nicky said.
And the crinkly silver strands found their way to the tree's waiting
branches where they fluttered and reflected tiny beams of colored light.
It was a happy sight for a very happy time.
"There!" The boys said when they finished hanging the last of the icicles,
placed a silver angel at the very top, and rummaged through all of the
boxes to be sure that they'd used every last decoration for the tree.
Kevin hung the wreath on the door and he put little sprigs of pine above
all of the colorful Nutcracker Suite sketches. In just a period of
forty-five minutes we had turned this regulation hospital room into a
Christmas party reception: and not a moment too soon.
Well, the first visitors were my bi-hourly injection visitors, but what the
hey, we invited them to have a Christmas goodie, and we gave each of them a
little token Christmas gift: pens and pads that Kevin had packed together
and wrapped with little red bows and notes saying, "Thanks to you and your
wonderful work, we won't be needing these any more. Hope you use them in
good health and happiness. Love, Hugo, Kevin, Nicky, and Jilder."
Before the injection team had visited and left, Dr. Kavanaugh and
Dr. O'Ryan came in to wish us a Merry Christmas. They shook hands with the
boys, who each stood and said to the doctors one by one, "Thank You for
helping our Dad to hear again. We really appreciate it."
I could tell that the doctors were pleased to be addressed by the boys,
which neither Kevin nor I had put them up to... Seems these boys were
finding their ways into manhood quite nicely on their own.
Kevin brought each of the doctors their gifts too: Again pens and pads with
the same message as the others, but these pads were in black leather
binders with each Doctor's name engraved in gold with matching gold pens.
They were affected by Kevin's heartfelt gesture and gave him a Christmas
hug and warm thank you in return.
Then Kevin went back over to the tree and picked up yet another Christmas
gift, this one had a huge silver bow on it and a little card bearing
Dr. Kavanaugh's name. He handed the gift to the doctor and stepped back
until he stood right beside me.
Dr. Kavanaugh looked shocked, but he recovered quickly and smiled
graciously at the two of us.
"Oh, my goodness," he said in surprise. He removed the wrapping carefully,
like you might expect a surgeon to do, and he uncovered a photographic
reproduction of the sketch I'd made of him in my sketch book several days
ago.
It was encased in a handsome, sterling silver frame and engraved with his
name and the date, December 2010, With Sincerest Gratitude, Hugo Ramirez.
Dr. Kavanaugh was speechless. He brought the back of his hand up and wiped
away the tears that rushed to his eyes.
Everyone in the room exclaimed "How beautiful," when they saw the sketch.
"Extraordinary!" Dr. Kavanaugh said. "Who made this sketch?" he asked.
I was so embarrassed I wished I could have slipped out the back way, except
there wasn't any back way out of which to slip!
Kevin stepped closer to me and put his arms around me and pulled me over to
him, giving me a kiss square on the lips, and said to Dr. Kavanaugh and the
room: "This wonderful man who has just joined us in the world of hearing
and sound is also a wonderful and talented artist. Now his love suffers no
impediment in its flow from his heart into the world. Hugo sketched the
portrait."
Dr. Kavanaugh came over to me and put his arms around me and gave me a
tearful hug, "Thank you, Hugo, he said quietly. I'm so embarrassed and so
touched that you cared enough about me to sketch my picture. I love you
too, Hugo!"
I knew that I could never return equal value to the man responsible for
restoring my hearing, but my sketch, the expression of my heart and the
work of my hand, was as close as I could come to it. I was happy that I
could do something for him in return.
*****
The injection team was leaving only to be met by three incoming nurses whom
I supposed, hearing the festivities, decided to join us.
I was worried that Dr. Kavanaugh would start asking everyone to talk in
whispers, but apparently the self-modulated, conversational voices of
everyone was appropriate, because no one was called on the carpet by the
doctor.
The room seemed to be a bit crowded when the door opened yet another time
and Kevin's old nurse, Jake, arrived with a very handsome guest, both of
them outfitted with surgical gowns, but with happiness beaming from their
eyes.
"We had no idea that there would be a party here when we decided to drop by
and wish you guys a Merry Christmas, but looks like we timed it just
right," Jake said.
The boys jumped up from the sofa and ran to pull on Jake.
"Jake, Jake!" they said. "Merry Christmas, Jake. We got you a Christmas
present," Jilder said. Nicky ran to the tree and rummaged around under it
looking for something. When he found it, he hurried back to Nick thrusting
it out in front saying, "Here, Jake. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas."
Kevin had just walked up to Jake and his friend, sort of rescuing them from
the boys but only after Jake was holding his gift.
"Please don't feel forced to reciprocate," Kevin said. "But you are one of
the most important people in our lives; so we couldn't forget to say Merry
Christmas to you."
Jake tore open the Christmas ribbon and wrapping paper to reveal a
photographic reproduction of the sketch I'd made of him, also framed, but
his was in a burnished bronze frame. It was a gorgeous object.
Jake was entirely choked up. He coughed and turned to his friend who gave
him a wad of Kleenex.
Everyone in the room began to murmur more compliments to me as the sketch
was passed around.
I was feeling embarrassed all over again, and wished I could slip away, but
that was not to be.
Kevin hugged me close to him, and the boys ran up to Jake, bouncing up and
down, and addressed him directly saying, "Yeah! Hugo did it! "Hugo did it!
He's pretty good, ain't he!"
Well THAT did it! Kevin just could not constrain himself, and he spoke
directly and rather loudly to the boys:
"He's pretty good , ISN'T HE!" ... "Boys!" "ISN'T HE!...."
Everyone burst out laughing, more at Kevin than at the boys, who simply
looked at one another somewhat puzzled over what all the fuss was about.
Jake went to the boys, put one arm around each, and gave them both a hug at
the same time.
"Thank You, Jilder, Nicky... And you're right! Hugo IS pretty damn good,
ain't he!"
Jake came over to me and put his arms around me and gave me a long
hug. "You're a terrific friend, Hugo," he said quietly. Just knowing that
you cared enough about me to sketch my picture is the greatest gift in the
world. Thank you, Hugo! I love you."
I was over come. Kevin hadn't prepared me for this Christmas Extravaganza
/ Party that materialized. I was at once supremely self-conscious,
extraordinarily happy, overjoyed with my family, humbled by the
intelligence and skill of the medical team who had traveled all the way
from Ireland to San Diego to perform their miracle, and grateful to Jake
and his friend, and all of my friends AND FAMILY who shared this Christmas
with me.
I had to say something, but nothing I could think of seem adequate.
"To you ALL, who make my life possible and joyful, I wish for you the
Merriest of Christmases, and to each of you I pass on the Love God has
given to me, that It will bring TO YOU a wonderful life, as It has to me.
Thank You very much for visiting me tonight... and Merry Christmas." (I'm
sure my pronunciation was wanting, but I knew my message wasn't...)
*****